Relativieren 2007
by Mirrordance
Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.
1. We're Not Going to Die in This Place

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Relativieren 2007

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown-- secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.

* * *

1: We're Not Going to Die in This Place

* * *

"We're not going to die in this place."

It was his mantra tonight, and he uttered and uttered it over and over for what seemed like an agonizing eternity by now.

Ken Hidaka had said it at the start to appease a friend-- a friend now unconscious and probably dead or dying, slung over his shoulder like a goddamn useless rag doll. Now it seemed he was saying it more to himself-- there was no one else to hear, certainly.

"We're not going to die in this place."

He thought he was starting to sound more than a little bit insane. His voice was low and harsh and bitter, and he uttered the words unpredictably, at times coming across as a threat, other times a promise, other times a prayer or a curse.

_We'renotgoingtodieinthisplace. We'renotgoingtodieinthisplace. We'renot goingtodieinthisplace. We'renotgoingtodieinthisplace..._

The words came faster and faster the more desperate he got. He said it until his voice ran out and all that was left was a tightness in his dry throat, mouthing words, words, words, useless words.

_This place..._

He couldn't even see what This Place was. It had just been the only escape route he could find, a small hole he hurriedly lowered the fatally injured Omi Tsukiyono into, before following. He jumped in, and fell hard against an already wounded leg. His knees buckled as he collapsed with a splash on the shallow water of the underground way. Biting back a cry of pain, he hoisted Omi onto his shoulder and made his best limping pace as far as he could away from their point of entry.

It was dark and dank; hot at the start when his adrenaline was pumping. But an eternity later, when the last sounds of their pursuers had vanished into the black hole of this labyrinth, he was just cold. And lost.

Hopelessly lost.

This hadn't been in the plan. This hadn't been in the goddamn plan at all.

His leg buckled again, and he yelped as it took him and Omi down hard on the slippery floor. It struck him that it was so hard to breathe. The more he fell, the harder it was to get back up. He started to shake from the chill. Each breath was laborious. Tears leaked from his eyes.

_I could just lie here_, he thought. It would be so easy. And the rats would just pick him apart, kill him little by little. It made no difference. He was dead anyway.

If only it had been just him. But it wasn't.

_We'renotgoingtodieinthisplace_, he had promised. Or threatened. Or prayed. Or cursed. Whatever. Of the uncountable times he had uttered these words, one had to be a promise.

He groaned, and rolled over and got up on his knees.

"We're not going to die in this place."

He picked up Omi and again, heaved both of them on his shaky legs. He hadn't gone three steps forward and around a corner when he collided with a hard wall of black leather and tensed muscles.

He fell again, but got up quickly and prepared to strike at whoever had found them. Ken threw his arm forward, more than a little bit reckless, more than a little bit weak.

The man he had collided with caught his arm in a tight grip, and pulled him close as he struggled futilely in a so-disconcertingly comfortable embrace.

"Siberian."

Tears of relief sprang to his eyes, and his knees weakened in the overwhelming sense of safety at last.

"Yoji," he barely had the voice to say.

"I'm going to let you down, all right?" asked the older man, calmly, gently, "I'll go see to Bombay--"

"He's dead," Ken spat out. He was surprised that he had finally accepted that by now. Hours of dragging a dead boy and talking to it when he had actually been talking to himself. Omi-- dead or alive, had ultimately been the force that drove him to stay alive.

"I can't breathe," Ken gasped, falling even more heavily against Yoji, "I can't fucking breathe."

"Calm down, calm down." Yoji said soothingly, the abstract expression in his eyes were unreadable, "I'll get you out of here. You're okay."

"Talk about luck, huh?" gasped Ken, "just a few days ago we lost Ran. Tonight it's Omi. Who's next? Me. You. You? Me? If not tonight, tomorrow night, maybe, maybe, the night after that--"

"I don't give a fuck," snapped Yoji, "One night at a time, Siberian. Tonight...We're not going to die in this place"

Ken barked a bitter laugh. It was ridiculously, blackly funny. It was the last thing he remembered thinking before the blackness closed in on him. It didn't bother him at all, he barely even noticed the change, as it was not so different from the overpowering emptiness of This Place anyway.

To be continued...


	2. Curiosity Killed the Cat

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Relativieren (2007)

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown-- secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.

* * *

2: Curiosity Killed the Cat

* * *

"Hey, carrot-top."

"Let's not get personal," the red-head German said good-naturedly, looking up at the new arrival. "How the hell are you doing, Weiß?"

Yoji Kudou snorted a reply, sliding into the chair across from Schuldich. The outdoor sitting area of the coffee shop overlooked a sunny little park. The wind was picking up, stirring everything into life and laughter, although the two of them seemed immune, absorbed only in the presence of each other. Disconcertingly, they almost seemed like brothers, this morning. The warm day had prompted each man to put up his long hair in a ragtag ponytail, eyes hidden under dark shades against the brightness of the sun, or perhaps just against each other. The occasion, after all, definitely called for concealing the reactions and emotions that leaked from the windows of their souls.

"How are you doing?" Yoji returned the same question unanswered.

"You tracked me down," Schuldich pointed out as he leaned forward, "I think you can tell me."

"Doing pretty well, I'd say," said Yoji coolly, "for a deranged psycho who should be locked up in an asylum or a prison, for at least, oh, I don't know, just about for the rest of your life."

"Thanks," grinned Schuldich, beaming sarcastically, "You really are a pal."

Silence. A waitress came over, and Schuldich chatted her up over some coffee orders. She seemed delighted over getting assigned to this table. The two men resumed their conversation when she finally pranced out of earshot.

"Let's cut the crap," declared Schuldich, "What are you doing here with me? What does Kritiker want with me? I've been a good boy, Kudou. I've accepted our defeat, became a normal part of society and I think they don't have a problem with me. I've been following the law. I've been helping old people cross the goddamn street. What the hell is going on?"

"Can't you read my mind?" snapped Yoji.

"I don't wanna," retorted the German, "Looks like a lot of pent-up frustrations in there."

Yoji grinned tightly. "Kritiker has nothing to do with this," he confessed.

Schuldich's brows raised, helplessly intrigued. "Oh?"

"This is my mission," said Yoji, "Mine. But the reason why we met in this place is I don't give a rat's ass if they found out. No secrets here, Schwarz. I just need your help."

"What's in it for me?"

"Nothing."

Schuldich chuckled arrogantly. "Then why the hell should I?"

"I can bring a whole lot of hell down on you, Schwarz," said Yoji, "I tracked you down. I alone might not be enough to defeat you, but a whole army could probably do the trick."

Schuldich snorted. "Threats to my life aren't worth anything to me. You should be aware of that by now"

"Which brings me to another point," said Yoji, "I think you're curious about this"

Schuldich's lips curled up to a slow smile. "So what if I am? Curiosity killed the cat, eh?"

"Yeah, so? That'll stop you?"

Schuldich leaned back on his chair, studying Yoji's face. "I can back out of this thing anytime I want."

"You're in control of that," Yoji promised.

"All right," breathed Schuldich, "Fine. I'm in. I have a feeling I'll regret it. But it just makes it so much more tempting."

Yoji gave him a sharp grin. He was not at all surprised.

"So what do I have to do?" asked Schuldich.

Yoji measured his words for a moment, then decided it was for the best to just speak plainly. "One of Weiß is dead. The other M.I.A. You can bet the loss is hard on us. I want closure on the other one. I want you to be able to find the missing one. Dead or alive."

"You tracked me down," pointed out Schuldich, "Why can't you find the lost kitty?"

"I've exhausted all means that I know," said Yoji, "All but you. You were never in the equation. You've got powers, Schwarz. My understanding is little and theoretical. But if you could just scan for a particular memory in a sea of minds, a particular thought pattern, maybe we'll know where he is."

"Scan the entire country?" scoffed Schuldich, "You're out of your mind. Or maybe I should be flattered. Unfortunately, my skills do not operate to that extent. And if he's dead, there won't be a trace of his thoughts anywhere."

"Whoever killed him would have memories of doing just that," pointed out Yoji, "But as I said. Theoretical. I want you to give it a shot."

Schuldich paused. Sighed.

"I said yes already, didn't I? But I'm not going into this thing blind."

"What do you mean?" Yoji asked, this time, knowing he would be the one to regret, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"What were the circumstances that led to his disappearance?" asked Schuldich, "I'm going to go pick around in your brain, Weiß, and you'll just have to trust me as much as I trust that this isn't some elaborate trap for me. There. Or deal's off."

* * *

"I want each step documented," Yoji said, "I need assurance. I need something I can review later and see that you weren't screwing with anything around in my haed that you find, understand?"

"You've made yourself clear," Schuldich agreed, "A very fair request."

And the two men made their way across the city to Schuldich's high- rise apartment, a minimalist bachelor pad on the busy, elegant part of Tokyo. Schuldich let Yoji settle comfortably on a black leather couch-- just one of a multitude of black furniture against stark white marble, as he set up a video camera in front of them.

"It can't video what I see in your head, of course," said Schuldich, "but I can say aloud what I see and what I'm doing. It's the best we can do."

Yoji glanced at the camera. "Good enough for me."

"Relax, Weiß."

"I think that's a little too much to ask," said Yoji wryly, but as he looked at the German's eyes, he didn't think it was a mind trick at all, that he suddenly trusted, and believed.

To be continued...


	3. Windows to the Soul

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Relativieren (2007)

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown-- secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.

* * *

3: Windows to the Soul

* * *

Ken was out. 

It really shouldn't have been very strange, he was always out. Out in the sun, out with the soccer kids who emulated his every act, from the soccer drills to the flavor of ice cream he picked every time. He was just out a lot.

It was probably more accurate to say that Ken was out prowling, which he has been doing since Omi Tsukiyono died in his arms. He walked around aimlessly. just wishing to be away from the Koneko, where he couldn't breathe, just wishing to be away from everything. His soul would have willingly jumped from his skin, if he could just manage it.

It worried Yoji at the start, he could tell, still does every now and then, but after a few tries of driving around the city and finding that the young soccer player wasn't doing anything significantly crazy, Yoji just let him get back home on his own time.

And it was usually a long, long time.

Ken simply couldn't breathe in the Koneko. At the start, its emptiness gnawed at him, a pain that reverberated deep into his bones. And then the Replacements sent in by Kritiker came along, and the emptiness had ceased and it instead became stiflingly full. His pain had become rage, and the only place he could direct it was the two new agents assigned to Weiß.

Because they were supposed to be Omi, and they were supposed to be Ran. And they weren't.

Deep within him he knew it was wrong to fault the two men. Which was probably why instead of being a pain in the ass back at the shop, he just takes the long, aimless walks.

_But still_.

They were Replacements.

Which was fine with him and Yoji on missions, but other than that, he firmly decided that they better stay out of his way, if they knew what was good for them. The two new agents assigned to Weiß didn't take long to find out that no matter how good they were in a fight, Ken Hidaka and Yoji Kudou had already exiled them.

The shop was just closing when the door chimed and he finally stepped back into the shop, exhaling a sigh that practically deflated him.

"Nice walk?"

Ken glanced up at the lean man with the startling black eyes. Black hair, black eyes. Blackest black. One of the two new White Hunters. Desmond had been an international diamond thief the media had dubbed the "Ice Cat," before surrendering and offering his stealth services to Kritiker in exchange for amnesty. He always asked the same thing whenever Ken came back, never minding the barely noticeable nod the other would answer him with.

"Yoji's back?" Ken asked.

"Just," replied Desmond, knowing from experience that the best exchange the two of them could ever have is business only, all bullshit aside. "He's downstairs."

"Thanks," mumbled Ken as he made his way down to the basement.

Trailing down the familiar way across the spiral steps, he could already hear that Yoji was prepping the video system. The closer Ken got, the more he could hear and see and the more absorbed he became over what the older man was doing.

The video was amateurish, from a hand cam and unedited, grainy and earthy and so unmistakably real.

Ken watched the screen, fixated as the face of the German Schwarz member backed away from the screen, apparently after pressing the Record button. He flashed the camera a wink and a mischievous smile before saying,

"This is Schuldich. I'm going into the mind of Weiß."

"Cut the crap," a familiar voice from behind him says. Schuldich moves aside.

It was an irate and nervous-looking Yoji. "Let's get this over with."

"It can't video what I see in your head, of course," said Schuldich as he moved toward Yoji, "But I can say aloud what I see and what I'll be doing. It's the best we can do."

Yoji glanced at the camera. "Good enough for me"

"Relax, Weiß."

"I think that's a little too much to ask," said Yoji wryly, looking deep into the German's eyes, until they slowly closed.

Ken watched, breathless, as the two men fell silent. But the silence didn't last long before Schuldich jerked back, as forces only he could feel jolted him as he entered Yoji's mind.

Ken listened intently, sick to his stomach as Schuldich's voice, through Yoji's eyes, guided them through the days that had ultimately led them into this nightmare of a life.

The more the German spoke, the deeper into Yoji's character he immersed himself in, and the more their voices started to sound the same. A pair of tones and sounds and accents and nuances eventually merging into just one, single, lonely voice.

* * *

"It's dark. 

"It usually starts this way upon entry. My entry, that is. Wait. Light. Light. Too bright. I'm opening my eyes. The digital clock on my nightstand says it's about noon. Ken is screaming my--Yoji's, Yoji's name. Kudou. That's me. The shop. The shop has to be manned. I have to get off my lazy ass. Yoji. Yoji has to get off his lazy ass. It's a working day. But I dreamed of Asuka..."

Schuldich paused, muttering to himself, "Who's Asuka?" Before continuing.

"The sun always shines too goddamn bright this time of day. Bell tolls. Bell by the door. It always tolls when customers come in, but somehow, when it's Manx, I know. The four of us filed down to the basement. The shop would have to wait for awhile."

* * *

The video stopped, jolting Ken into a misplaced reality. Yoji had paused the tape, and was looking at him intently, expectantly. 

"What does all that mean?" Ken asked him, shakily.

"I'm asking for his help," Yoji said, intentionally, conveniently editing out the name to keep from reiterating that he was working with Schwarz, "I'm looking for Ran."

"Inside your head?" Ken asked, cautiously coming closer to stand, hovering above Yoji who was on the couch, clutching the remote control.

"He needs to know what happened," said Yoji, "he needs to know where, who else was there. Faces of enemies, witnesses. anyone who may know something. So that he can look for what had happened to Ran inside their heads."

"That makes sense," Ken conceded, warily.

Yoji nodded, glancing at the blnk screen. He wanted Ken to leave. Just now, he was starting to realize that when Schuldich had gone to his mind to see what had happened through his eyes, the German had also felt the things he felt; emotions which will undoubtedly be described as the video progresses. Emotions he was loathe to expose to Ken just yet-- his fears, the lies in his assurances, his rage, his loss.

"I want to see all of it," Ken said determinedly, as if Yoji had just said his thoughts aloud.

The older man looked at Ken, deep into that amber core of fire. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Ken understood everything anyway after all.

"Come sit by me," Yoji offered, making space on the couch as the video continued.

* * *

Maybe it was boring to watch. 

Just two men sitting on a black leather couch with eyes closed. Even the house looked boring.

One of the men was silent, the other speaking, narrating erratically-- sometimes slow and languid, then quick and excited and calm and placid and just a mix of everything a human could care to feel in moments falling one after the other.

Maybe it was even boring to listen to.

But the words triggered emotions and memories through Yoji and Ken, such that each word, each fragment of a letter, mattered so greatly.

"The four of us filed down to the basement," Schuldich's voice echoed in the silent room, "The shop would have to wait for awhile."

* * *

The mission had been far from simple. 

The four members of Weiß had watched the Kritiker video, thinking that the multimillionaire drug lord is definitely courting their 'attention;' his market is the youth, he orders out murders, he blackmails politicians and other men of power into protecting him. Before the tape was even done, the answer had been Mission Accepted.

But of course, Ran Fujimiya looked Manx straight in the eye and said so. It was a given that the three would follow suit; after years of working together, this could not be doubted. But probably, because of the hardship of the said mission, Manx had asked the other three as well, and unsurprisingly, they all agreed to do what had to be done.

_What had to be done._

It was the night of their mission that Ran Fujimiya was lost. Just...vanished. Dead, captive or deserter, none of them knew. The four of them split up to do their job, and he never came back.

* * *

Yoji stopped the playing tape at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were noisy, he knew, by choice. After all, the man who owned them was an assassin, and the sound died out mission-time, with the silent, lethal movement of one of the most light-footed men he had ever encountered. 

"The Ghost," as he was known in the underground, had been a government assassin. The screwed-up system made him want out of 'government service,' but the consequence was death. The only organization powerful enough to protect him was Kritiker, which he shifted loyalties to. So far, he found no wrong in the justice this group delivers.

"Dinner," Matsu had said, with a forced cheer crinkling the corners of his sharp, clear crystal blue eyes. Of compact built, he was slightly shorter than Ken, but just as lean. His reckless, sandy hair made him look so much like a child, although he was as old as Yoji.

"Thanks," Ken said, "but we can fend for ourselves."

"Desmond cooked," Matsu said, a hint of irritation in his even voice, "He cooked enough for an army. I think it really would be nice..." his voice trailed off, sensing the tension in the air. These men would not be disturbed.

But unlike Desmond, who was calm and agreeable, Matsu was more fiery and impulsive.

"You people are sick," he said, before turning away and heading up for what would be a two-man dinner upstairs.

Yoji paused in thought for awhile, before pressing the play button once again.

* * *

The mission that followed the one where they lost Ran had perhaps come too soon. 

In a way, it had been an annex of that previous one. Because after the death of the drug lord, one of his more ambitious underlings took over where the boss broke off, and everything started all over again.

"Everytime one falls," Schuldich said as he narrated the events from Yoji's eyes and feelings, "Ten just pop back up to take its goddamn place."

And so it had to be done all over again.

The new boss had lived that night, but Omi had been lost to several, keenly-placed gunshot wounds. Ken had retreated laboriously with his dying friend, and Yoji, who had also left in a rush, found them in the city's labyrinthine, underground waterways.

"Ken, Ken! I want to scream it so much," Schuldich narrated, "but I have to keep the right perspective. Siberian. That ought to straighten us both out. He looks shell-shocked. Omi's fucking dead. God. God. But he must believe we're all right. One of us should. Ken keeps saying we'll all end up dead like this. If not tonight some other night. God, his voice. And the things he's saying. He shouldn't know we feel the same.

"I don't give a fuck. One night at a time, Siberian. Tonight...We're not going to die in this place."

"He's laughing at me," said Schuldich, sounding hurt and surprised, "Why would he find what I said so funny? He's losing consciousness. Thank God. Thank God to stop that harsh, bitter laugh. But Thank God for nothing else."

* * *

Then Schuldich had pulled out of Yoji's mind. 

Yoji had been too distraught to notice it at the time, but the honesty of the video had showed him Schuldich turning away from him as he returned to the real world and out of Yoji's mind, coolly brushing a tear from his eye and jutting out his chin to look at Yoji with a crooked smile.

"You're a real sad sonofabitch."

To be continued...


	4. A Job Well Done

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Relativieren (2007)

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown-- secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.

* * *

4: A Job Well Done

* * *

"Well, well, if it isn't the pretty Kritiker redhead," Schuldich said into the darkness of his bedroom, knowing precisely where the beautiful agent stood amidst the opaque night.

"I suspect," said Schuldich, "that the visit of our mutual friend Kudou has something to do with your consequent appearance? Hm?"

"Don't look for Fujimiya," Manx told him, "Don't do what he wants you to do. It's better this way."

"I think maybe I should pick your brain," Schuldich said thoughtfully, "I have a feeling you have the answers."

"Don't look for Fujimiya," Manx said again, "it's better this way."

And then she left.

He couldn't see a thing in the dark, but her absence was potent.

Actually, her interruption had been most welcome, in Schuldich's opinion. He was staring emptily at the ceiling when he felt her presence and her intent as she broke expertly into his apartment. Schuldich was thinking about Yoji Kudou. And Weiß. Of all things under the sun. Because he had just found out a bitter side effect of going into the mind of someone else for too long, just to walk through his memories. It was so much different from mind manipulation, where one had to concentrate on using someone else's mind to one's own ends.

This time, just watching, he made Yoji's memories his own. Not just at the time he is in the other's mind, but even after that; after all, they become his memories now too. And that made Yoji's feelings during these events, also his own. Imprinted like visions in his sharp mind.

Manx was most likely right. That things were better if he didn't do as the blasted Kudou asked.

But Yoji's obsession with the search for Fujimiya, after all the bullshit he had seen in his life, had also become Schuldich's obsession.

_Your eyes were my eyes, your memories were mine, your anguish, and obsession, is mine now also, you sick bastard._

Fujimiya will be found, one way or another, and regrets will have to come as they were wont to: later, irrevocably.

* * *

"You're up early," Desmond said to Yoji, who had gone into the shop for morning work. 

Yoji grunted at him and proceeded with the preparations of opening the shop.

"Or maybe he hadn't slept at all," Matsu said to Desmond over Yoji's head, finding conversation with him directly to be utterly useless by now.

Ken glanced up at the three, then concentrated on sweeping the floor. The four of them were so hopelessly silent in this room stifling and struggling with with older memories.

At least the shop would open soon, and the noisy girls would come in, with new names on their pretty little mouths. It hardly mattered, as long as their noise blocked out all the thoughts he had within.

* * *

"Maybe I should shave my head and drive around a flying bump car," muttered Schuldich as he closed his eyes and struggled to scan a city's worth of minds for a particular train of thought or memory, Professor X- style. 

Sure enough, Fujimiya's image was on a whole lot of female minds, and some men too, of course. Schuldich made sure to clear out of those the moment they had any indication of going dirty, which was usually the case.

Some survivors of Weiß missions who ran for their lives still have nightmares of him. The mortal fear was so potent that Schuldich left too, before he shared their emotions.

From the random to test out his skills, he narrowed down to specifics. He had to keep his head on straight here.

_What could be going on inside the head of the vampy Kritiker redhead?_

Entry was hard in her heavily-guarded mind, but Manx was also a very busy, very distracted woman. Schuldich went in discreetly, smoothly. It was tempting to see if the cool lady had any hot thoughts of course, but Schuldich had a mission to fulfill, and he stuck by it.

_Fujimiya? Are you in here...?_

Missions, assigning missions, midnight, clandestine talks. Aaaah. Now it gets interesting. What is this little memory here?

* * *

"This is some fucking mess." 

Birman's head shot up at the sound of Manx's-- my--voice as she--I-- entered the lesser agent's office, as I did whenever I was bothered about something. Neutral, as I always was, but the curse meant that something had definitely gone under my skin.

Birman tilted her head at me, willing to humor me a little in the Kritiker HQ. "Which fucking mess out of the world in particular are we talking about?"

"Weiß."

Birman leaned on her chair.

"Let me guess," said Birman, "they found out Fujimiya wasn't M.I.A. after all, and that we simply assigned him a personal mission?"

"No," Manx answered, "they still believe the M.I.A. cover. What they don't know is that Fujimiya's mission led to Tsukiyono's death."

Birman frowned. "And that means?"

"That means," Manx said, "We couldn't possibly arrange for Fujimiya to return to Weiß. They may not know, but he does. It's not going to be the same."

"What are you saying?" Birman asked.

The redhead paused for awhile.

"Assign Fujimiya to a new group," Manx said, "And make sure this group doesn't ever, cross the path of Weiß."

"And the rest of the team?"

"Kudou and Hidaka," Manx decided, "Can go on believing Fujimiya is M.I.A. and will never know."

_Should never know_, she thought.

"Just two of them left," Birman said, obviously masking her regret in a controlled voice, "How could we have possibly lost our best team so quickly?"

"All's not lost," Manx corrected, "we're replacing their lost agents. I'm sure it couldn't be too hard to find men of equal skill."

"But the difference in Weiß is not just in their skill," pointed out Birman, "It's how they worked together."

"We salvage what we can, Birman."

* * *

Schuldich stepped out of Manx's mind enraged. 

_Fujimiya killed Tsukiyono?_

_Ran killed little Omi?_

No.

_No._

Wait.

_Wait._

Schuldich took several shaky breaths to calm himself. He shouldn't be angry.

_I'm not Yoji Kudou._

_I don't give a damn about these people._

_I'm not Kudou._

_I don't give a damn about these people._

He ran his head through his hair, a helpless gesture in his dark, empty room. He had realized last night that he took a part of Yoji with his mind, when he had stayed there so long. He just didn't realize he would be losing himself.

_I'm not Kudou.  
_

* * *

Now to search for Fujimiya himself, which was now truly possible, knowing that he was alive. 

Schuldich toyed with Birman's mind, found the files and the information containing Fujimiya's reassignment.

"Job's done," Schuldich said to himself, oddly dissatisfied, after he wrote down the country location of the Kritiker outpost with a flourish. "I just have to give Kudou a ring."

Which he was suddenly hesitant to do.

Manx had said it. There were things better left alone. The rage he felt had been real, and that was only being partly Yoji. How would Kudou feel, knowing that Fujimiya somewhat deserted them? Maybe he should just tell Kudou his theory is bullshit.

But, being partly Yoji, he also understood the obsession for answers. And this is ultimately what wins.

"You'll have your little address, Weiß kitty." he whispered the promise, pocketing the little sheet of paper.

_But first._

Schuldich dived into the distant mind of Ran Fujimiya.

The job was just to look for him, but Schuldich couldn't seem to resist wanting to find the reasons why, wanting to find his guilt, wanting to find he was unhappy, because it was only fair that he paid for what he had done to Omi. What he had done to Ken. And what he had done to m-Yoji.

To be continued...


	5. MurderSuicide

Author: Mirrordance

Title: Relativieren (2007)

Warnings: Language, Death, Violence

Summary: Ran Fujimiya is missing in action, and Yoji asks for Schuldich's help to find him. Together, they will find that there are things much better left unknown-- secrets about betrayal and guilt, and worst of all, the depths of the darkness of a human soul.

* * *

5: Murder/Suicide

* * *

"What the hell is this?" Yoji asked Schuldich, another morning in the same coffee shop from days ago, grabbing him by the forearm.

"It's the address!" Schuldich retorted, although he knew that Yoji was referring to something else entirely.

Schuldich had been careful to conceal the bulk of gauze along his wrists, but Yoji wasn't in this business if he wasn't perceptive.

"You know what I'm talking about," snapped Yoji, trying to see through Schuldich's cuffs, "What the hell have you done?"

Schuldich pried his hand away, careful not to reopen the wounds. "I know it's not in your nature, Weiß but can you please try and mind your own business? I did you a favor. Now do me one: spare me."

"What are you doing to yourself?" Yoji asked again, and the sincerity of his concern made Schuldich, who by now could understand him better because of his previous entry into Yoji's mind, made him answer truthfully, albeit a bit evasively.

"So I step in and out of people's minds looking for your lost kitty, right?" Schuldich answered, "So I make the mistake of going into some suicidal maniac's mind, right? So for a moment I think I'm him, right? There. You can probably fill in what happens next."

Yoji bit his lip in thought, before speaking. "I didn't know that could happen, I'm sorry--"

"This isn't your fault," Schuldich cut in coolly, daring Yoji to say otherwise, to say he hadn't been in control.

Yoji paused. Nodded. Fell silent.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Schuldich.

And the joking retort would have been 'Why don't you look and see for yourself?' or 'Don't you know?' But Yoji was serious now, given the new information he had received.

"When you went in my mind." Yoji began hesitantly, "You thought you were me?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Yoji exhaled.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Schuldich asked.

"No," answered Yoji, "I guess I just find it strange"

"Nothing about Weiß or Schwarz has ever been normal," Schuldich commented, "So this being strange makes it normal for us also."

Yoji chuckled a little, playing absently with the piece of paper Schuldich had given him a few minutes ago.

"You can't wait to come see him," Schuldich guessed.

"Reading my mind?"

"No," came the answer, "It's all over your face."

Yoji looked down on the paper. "This isn't so far. Why won't he come see us? Why leave in the first place? He should at least be told that Omi is dead already."

"Maybe you should just leave him be," Schuldich said, marking his uneasiness by shifting on his seat, "Maybe there are things better left unknown. There are lots of things we aren't aware of. It's a dog eat dog world out there."

"I'm a cat."

"I'm serious, Kudou," said Schuldich, "It's so easy to return, and yet he doesn't. There's a reason. A reason you most likely wouldn't want to know."

"Why the hell are you trying to stop me?" asked Yoji, "What's it to you? Or maybe. God. There's something you're not telling me."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," snapped Schuldich, "you wanted to know where he was. I told you. End of story."

"What do you know?" Yoji asked, "What the hell do you know?"

For one thing, Schuldich knew who the suicidal maniac whose mind he entered was. And Schuldich knew precisely why the suicidal maniac was a suicidal maniac in the first place.

* * *

_Now what could possibly be going on inside the mind of the lost kitty Fujimiya?_

Fields. Fields were the first thing that he had seen upon entering Ran Fujimiya's mind, seeing through his eyes. Vast fields of the countryside, the sun shining down on dancing grass pleasantly. It looked cool and breezy and calm and breathtakingly beautiful in its simplicity.

The place, thought Schuldich, was definitely typical of the place he had toyed with Birman's mind to find out about.

Schuldich found it was nice in Fujimiya's head, and it irked him that such a goddamn sinner had any right to this kind of peace.

_Focus_.

_Damn it_.

_You're not Yoji_.

Let White Cross kill each other one by one, he didn't care.

But he went deeper. Out of the shell of peace and beauty, undoubtedly descending into a fast, black, narrow spiral of death and betrayal and desolation. The night that Tsukiyono died would haunt Ran always. He did not have to dig too deep to find it, it was so easy to recall, so near to the surface of Fujimiya's thoughts.

Kritiker contacted Ran and gave him a separate mission. White Cross would be given the task of eliminating a big-time drug lord. But Kritiker knew that there was one ambitious underling who has long been planning to take over too. And this new man was sharp. Cautious. Kritiker couldn't find out who he was, much less where he is hiding out. So Ran was assigned to leave White Cross for awhile, without the knowledge of others for maximum effect, and the sake of secrecy. A 'traitor' for a traitor. Once the drug lord was taken out, Ran stepped forward and was taken in by the new lord virtually as a brother.  
So Ran stuck it out for awhile, finding out key places, key personalities, so next time, not just the leader would be taken down, but the entire organization and its connections. Ran was to keep all the information to himself until the new lord is killed; after all, if he passed the information immediately, he might get caught. His sign that he would be recalled is when White Cross would be assigned to take down the new lord.

The day had come at last, and Ran knew this because men started not to report on their assigned places of security, and the stench of blood and broken bodies started to reek in the HQ.

"Be a buddy, Ran," the new lord had said to him, "and Grab my stash from the other room. We're high-tailing it out of here. You and me."

Ran grunted and nodded, wanting to take the man out now, but knowing it was White Cross' mission, excluding him. Follow the orders, so things would go smoothly.

His distracted thoughts suddenly had him looking at the pointed end of an arrow.

"Ran?" the sound of his name grated against the mouth of Omi, "What are you doing here? Where have you been?"

"I can't tell you that now," Ran said, struggling. He wanted to tell his friends everything. He wanted to tell them he didn't leave them. That he was always on their side. But this was hardly the place.

"You're a traitor," Omi decided, with finality. But he didn't fire the arrow. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He had killed his own brother, before. But this... this he could not do--

So someone else fired.

Several gunshots took Omi down, splattering his blood on the floor, on the walls, on Ran's clothes, on his face, all over his goddamn hands.

"I saved you Ran! I saved you!" exclaimed the drug lord, "Come on, we must go, we must go!"

Ran breathed in and out and in and out uncontrollably, looking at Omi, looking at his 'boss,' looking at the blood, the blood, the blood on his hands.

Ran was just about to kneel down and see to Omi when he heard Ken's voice on the communicator that belonged to Omi, "Bombay? Bombay do you read? Damn it, I'm coming to your last reported location."

And all Ran could think, with great fear of Ken and his betrayed eyes after he had just seen Omi's, was to run away. Omi would be taken care of by Ken when he comes. This is the best way. He just...has to..._run_.

_I'm a selfish coward bastard._

All he had to do was run, and never see those eyes again.

But before that. Ran grabbed one of Omi's bows and slipped it right on the neck of his 'savior.'

The mission of White Cross was done. So was his.

Those would truly be separate things from now on.

And so Kritiker reassigned him to a country outpost that doesn't really do much. But it was a good break.

The peace was wonderful, and the solitude. It wouldn't last because he knew Kritiker would one day ask more of him, but in the meantime, he would live this way, here.

But certainly not without great regret.

Maybe the beautiful place had calmed him somewhat. But in the deadest part of the night, he couldn't help but think.

And in thinking, he couldn't help but hate. Hate God. Hate Kritiker. Hate the World. Hate himself.

Especially that evening that Manx had come along and told him to leave this beautiful place, and leave it forever. His friends were looking for him, and they could very well succeed.

They won't find him, he decided that very night after she left and after some brandy, they won't find him.

They'd find a goddamn corpse.

As Ran proceeded with doing the deed on himself, so was Schuldich, in another part of the country.

Just as the German grabbed the knives and started to cut, cut at his wrists, _it's so damn easy_, he got a loose grip on himself. Or maybe it was the part of Yoji in him who was stopping the part of Ran in him, which meant that he had two little Weiß kitties in his goddamn crazy mind, and he might as well get everything over with 'cos where the hell was Schuldich?

"Haltestelle," he told himself, _Stop_.

He ran to the bathroom and the sink, to try to stop the blood. Stop the blood. Haltestelle this too, damn it. He looked up at his drawn face on the mirror above the sink.

_You're not them_.

_Haltestelle_.

Just as the German stopped, his screams reached the mind he had entered, and saved that life also.

Ran didn't know what happened, but all that he had the next morning, was a hangover and a shallow pair of scars.

* * *

"What do you know?" Yoji had asked in that sunny coffee shop, "What the hell do you know?"

And all Schuldich could say, was a surprisingly honest "Nothing."

He supposed, in a certain light, it was very much true.

* * *

Days later, Yoji still kept that sacred little piece of paper with him, though not doing anything about actually coming to that scrawled address, which he now knew by heart. He hasn't even told Ken about it yet.

_What could this mean_, he wondered. The things that Schuldich said made sense. There had to be a reason why Ran would leave them. And he knew it was probably wise to leave things as they are, but the more forbidden, the more his obsession for answers grew.

_Why, Ran_...?

"Looks like you've finally realized people work in the mornings after all," a voice said from behind him. Matsu. It was Matsu who was coming toward him with a steaming cup of black coffee.

"What do you mean?" Yoji asked absently, shifting on the counter to accommodate the new arrival.

"All the time that I've been here," answered Matsu, "you haven't really worked in the mornings, except lately."

"How long have you been here?" Yoji asked, suddenly realizing that he had no idea. How long since there was just him and Ken left?

"Several weeks," answered Matsu, "so what's been waking you up early? Or... keeping you up all night and day?"

Yoji fell silent. Itching to answer. He needed an objective point of view.

"Let's say," Yoji began, "You have a golden, odd-shaped key with a deep black jewel embedded on it. Where does it lead?"

"Now I know you're pulling my leg," said Matsu grumpily, "If you don't want to say, just tell me to bug off."

"I'm serious," insisted Yoji, "Where does it lead?"

"All keys lead to a door or a lock or both," replied Matsu, looking at Yoji strangely, "I don't know where the hell you're going with this."

"You have a key, and there's a locked door," said Yoji, "You don't know what's inside. So what do you do?"

"Pandora."

"What?"

"Greek myth," said Matsu, "about the beautiful girl who was favored by most of the gods of Olympus. Upon her marriage, she was given a gift by each one. One of these presents was a beautiful box she was never to open. Another of these presents was curiosity. Pandora opens the box and releases plagues on the world."

"That's encouraging," muttered Yoji.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," said Yoji, "So knowing the possibility of that, What do you do?"

"Pandora," Matsu said again, "All locks have to be opened someday, you know. It's the way of things."

"And where did that come from?"

"Me."

* * *

But Pandora's box would not be opened in time.

A body was found in a lake, a few hours from the city. Gagged and tortured and very, very, much dead.

It was identified as Ran Fujimiya.

* * *

"One of the most brutal murders Japan has ever seen." the slick reporter was saying, "fears are escalating as the killer remains at large. The authorities are exhausting all efforts in a nationwide manhunt, but critics are saying if they do not find anything soon, the Fujimiya murderer may not be caught at all, free to continue in his--or her, reign of terror."

The flower shop was closed, and would be for quite awhile.

Reporters had flocked the Koneko in droves, camping outside, waiting to hear from anyone who was remotely connected with the orphaned and relatively alone Fujimiya.

The sister studies overseas. Sent away by the brother who feared for her safety in Japan, because of what he did for a living. But of course, the rest of the world knew nothing of that, or Fujimiya's connection to Kritiker.

He was just a nice boy earning an honest living, unrealistically good looking, cut down at the very prime of his life. The perfect tragedy.

"This doesn't end," Ken muttered, alone in his room.

By now the tears just came occasionally, at odd moments. Now it was more like he entered a nightmare, couldn't wake up. Ever. Things just started to come that would shake him to his very core, without warning, without mercy. Maybe he really was cursed--

A knock on his door.

"Who the hell is it?"

"Desmond."

"What do you want?"

"You won't open the door?"

_Is he kidding?_

"No."

_Hell, no._

"Okay," came the surprising reply.

"What do you want?" Ken asked wearily, at last getting to his feet and opening the door on the new agent's face.

Desmond jammed a bouquet of gentians on Ken's hands.

"I'm sorry."

Ken looked down on the offerring, and up at the person who...tries.

"We've not been very easy on you," he said quietly.

"It's not so bad," Desmond corrected, "We understand."

"The other one doesn't," Ken corrected.

Desmond chuckled, didn't dispute.

"I want to be alone for awhile," Ken said haltingly.

"I know," Desmond said as he turned to leave, "but I think you've been alone too long already. We all have. So don't take your time."

Ken thought it was oddly funny.

* * *

If anyone could get out of airtight press coverage, it would be a White Hunter.

Yoji snuck out one evening and invaded the apartment of Schuldich, who was not surprised by his arrival. The German was sitting on the black leather couch, more than a little drunk and looking up at him blearily.

"You," Schuldich drawled, "I hate you."

Yoji sat beside him, took a gulp of the German's scotch down easy.

"You got good stuff."

"You come in here," said Schuldich, "you disrupt my life. You drink my drink. What the heeelllll is yooooh problum?"

Yoji almost smiled at him. Almost.

"I want you to do me a favor."

Schuldich snorted. "No."

"Please."

"You're out of your mind," said Schuldich, "no, I'm out of my mind. I go crazy after your last favor. I'm barely me right now. No. No. Absolutely no."

"You can help me."

"That's not the point," said Schuldich, "Get this in your head, Weiß, I don't give a damn about you."

"Ran's dead."

"I know," said Schuldich, taking another gulp of liquor, "Suicide."

Schuldich laughed, at some private joke. The sound made Yoji's blood turn cold.

"No," said Yoji slowly, tightly, "he was gagged. Tied up. Tortured. He couldn't have been able to do it to himself. It's not physically possible."

"Yes it is."

"You're a goddamn sick bastard," Yoji said, "he was murdered. I want you to help me find out who killed him. I'll get that asshole. I'll kill him with my bare hands."

"You wouldn't!" laughed Schuldich.

"There's nothing funny about this."

"No," corrected Schuldich primly, "I find it extremely laughable."

"You're drunk," Yoji said disgustedly.

"I'm me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Yoji told him, dismissively.

"But I'm you."

"You're sick."

"And I'm him too."

"I'm leaving," Yoji said, getting up, "Think about what I said, Schwarz. Let's look for this murderer."

"It was a suicide."

"Sober up," Yoji said, turning his back on the German.

"It was a suicide," Schuldich said, all alone in the room again and grabbing a gun he had hidden under the couch.

He placed the barrel inside his mouth, against its roof.

"This is murder. Bye bye Schwarz."

A shot. And the dull thump of a falling body.

* * *

Days later, Yoji found out that the German had taken his own life. Without Schuldich, his investigation of Ran would come to a grinding halt. And maybe the story would end here after all.

Without answers.

But a package came for him at the shop, via messenger. Inside was a tape. It was postmarked the morning of Schuldich's death, and was from the man himself. It was eerie, like getting mail all the way from the depths of hell.

It was a video.

With answers, like a golden, odd-shaped key with a jewel embedded on it...

It was shot late at night, with dull lighting and the grimy, honest look of unedited home video.

The place was the same, that black couch in Schuldich's living room. He tested the recording first, then sat down before speaking.

Schuldich's clothes were bloodied, and so were the parts of his body that Yoji could see.

"Tonight," Schuldich said, "Ran Fujimiya killed himself. I did him in for him. I looked into that mind and found things that he wanted to do to himself. And I became him. Each time I am about to kill myself, I look at a mirror, and use it to remind myself that I am not Fujimiya. I am Schuldich, of Schwarz. I am not him. I am not any of you. But one night, in my deepest madness, I went to where he was. I saw him, and it was like looking in the mirror, except this time, the image was correct. It was him, not me. And I killed him, in the worst way that he desired, because I knew his desires, and his desires were my desires. And he was grateful."

Yoji started to shake as he watched, watched the madness.

"And then I thought I was alone," continued Schuldich, "but wasn't. I was also Yoji. And Yoji was mad at Schuldich because he thinks Schuldich killed Ran. So he will put a gun to Schuldich's mouth and pull the trigger. And Yoji would think he was at last satisfied."

_Stop this_, Yoji urged himself, _Just stop it_.

"But before Schuldich dies," said Schuldich, "Yoji wants to give you answers. Hence, this little offering. But Schuldich also wants to say something: First, you must remember that Ran's death was suicide. This is murder. You murdered Schuldich. And of this, he says,

"To hell with all of you."

* * *

THE END November 19, 2001

RE-POSTED: April 2007


End file.
